


i'll tell you what my aunt and uncle told me

by softgrungeprophet



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Arguing, Consent Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Groping, Kissing, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: Peter is mad, and also horny. Johnny likes the kissing, but... The next step, not so much. They talk about it like healthy adults, mostly.-99% of the fic is T for Teen at most BUT there are a few lines at the beginning that push into M territory, including some groping and inappropriate talk. Set roughly around/during FF vol 1 issue #17, "The Roommate Experiment."





	i'll tell you what my aunt and uncle told me

**Author's Note:**

> There are some vague references to and discussion of sexual assault and consent but nothing explicit. 
> 
> Some context can be provided by reading [Spider-Man and Power Pack (1984) #1](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Spider-Man_and_Power_Pack_Vol_1_1) "Secrets" and [Dark Reign: Zodiac (2009)](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_Reign:_Zodiac_Vol_1).
> 
> I originally started writing this cause I wanted to write a funny, sexy fic where Peter and Johnny go at it against the door but... obviously that did not happen.  
R.I.P.  
I might still try to visit that concept in a different fic though.

Peter slammed Johnny into the door, crowding him in, close. His voice was low as he growled, “I have had it up to here,” He pressed just one fingertip against Johnny’s forehead, startlingly gentle despite his anger. “With you.”

All Johnny had done was walk through the front door, pretty much.

Okay, maybe he had been wearing a sweater he stole from Peter, just… you know, for the style. To tie the outfit together.

Their faces were very close.

When Johnny didn’t say anything (just wide-eyed and at a bit of a loss for words, holding his breath with Peter’s forearm pressed across his shoulders) Peter let out a deep breath through his nose—his dark eyebrows all stormy and heavy in knots. "You infuriate me."

"Do I?!" He shoved at Peter slightly, but of course he didn't budge. "Sorry for existing, I guess!"

He could flame on, to get Peter to move. Just raise the temperature until a regular human would be forced away. But he didn't.

Peter rolled his eyes. Pressed their foreheads together firmly, noses brushing. A lot of mixed signals here, with the close physical contact and the glaring and the roughness coupled with the gentleness. Peter's body a heat signature of heightened nerves.

Finally, quietly, a heavy whisper—"I hate you sometimes." He half-closed his eyes a moment, sighing. Lifted his gaze, eyes dark under his long lashes. "I'm gonna kiss you."

"_Are_ you?" Johnny shifted slightly—

Their lips just barely brushed as Peter closed the distance between them. A soft murmur—"I am." He angled in a little better, mouth slotting against Johnny's, hand cupping the side of Johnny's face. Sliding back through his hair to grasp the back of his skull and hold him there. Johnny let out a shaky sigh—it was by no means an obscene kiss, but it wasn't exactly chaste, and after a second Peter separated them with a quiet breath. Johnny watched him, eyes crossing slightly to focus on his close face.

"Still hate me?" He cracked a smile, warm all over.

Rather than answer, Peter got his hands under Johnny's ass and lifted—Johnny gasped, heart catching in his throat, and grabbed onto Peter, locking his legs around his waist. Peter held him like that, up against the door, and pressed his lips to Johnny's neck. Soft, hot kisses; big hands sliding down Johnny's thighs and back up.

"Oh," Johnny tangled his fingers in Peter's hair. Peter must have been able to feel his hammering pulse against his lips, against his tongue, as he sucked a hickey into his throat. "Guess you don't—"

Peter dug his fingers into Johnny's thigh with a growling hum—removed his mouth from Johnny's neck to nip at his jaw. "Stop talking."

Johnny shivered and bit back the urge to deliver a grinning retort.

But while Johnny held his tongue, Peter murmured against the curve of his neck—dirty things, judging by the tone, but Johnny couldn't quite make out what he was saying. Muffled as Peter tried to talk and mark Johnny at the same time—and Johnny didn't have super hearing, unlike _some_ people.

Attempting to lighten things: "What—what was that? I couldn't quite—" Johnny breathed in a sharp gasp, when Peter jostled him, dug his fingers into his ass. (Like brands, the way their heat stuck out over everything else.) "—catch that... Peter?"

"I said," Peter caught his mouth in another kiss, demanding and passionate. "I'm gonna fuck you right _here_." Punctuated with a roll of his hips, forehead-to-forehead, no space between their bodies at all.

"Oh—" Johnny let Peter kiss him again but the excitement had turned into something else, heavy in his gut. His mouth felt dry. He turned his head slightly to break their kiss, cheek sliding against Peter's. His voice felt tight and small but he said, "Okay."

And suddenly everything stopped.

Peter craned back awkwardly to look at him with a frown, dark eyes suddenly brightened with concern. "You're uncomfortable."

He wasn't asking.

Johnny shrugged. "I—I mean, it's fine, if—if you want—" He could feel all the heat of the room acutely, Peter's body a hundred degrees against him, the air cold. Goosebumps tickling up his arms. "I won't stop you."

"What?" All the aggression and lust was gone. He just stared at Johnny, dumbfounded.

"I _said_ I won't s-stop you." Johnny didn't see what was so hard to understand. "You can do... do whatever you want, it's f-fine."

Peter dropped him—Johnny yelped, catching himself awkwardly against the wall, one knee bent, the other leg kicked out.

"What the _hell_ was that for?!" He straightened up and fixed his shirt with a glare.

Peter stepped back with his hands still up. "What do you _think_?" Hands out waving, now, emphasizing his words. "You think you can just say things like that and I'll be fine with it?! You won't _stop_ me!?" He was starting to get mad again, eyebrows drawing together. "You're stuttering! What kind of person do you think I am?!"

"...H—horny?" Johnny raised his eyebrows.

"For the love of—" Peter turned his back to Johnny, one hand to his forehead and the other on his hip. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a threat to bury Johnny at the bottom of the Hudson.

Johnny crossed his arms with a huff, smoking a little bit at the edges. "Whatever, jerk."

"Don't 'whatever' me!" Peter whirled to face Johnny again. "You—" He let out an angry, noisy breath. Centered himself. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You didn't like what I was doing." He opened his eyes, and the look there was so... full. "Why didn't you tell me to stop? What if I hadn't realized?"

What a question.

With a sigh, Johnny slid down the door and plopped down onto his butt, knees half up. "It's just..." He gestured vaguely, letting his head fall back against the wood. "It's easier. If I—It's easier to let people just do what they want. You know? Safer."

"...Safer?" Peter lowered himself down to sit on the floor too, in the spot he'd pulled back to, facing Johnny.

Johnny nodded. "I can't... I can't burn anyone if I don't fight back. And they won't—won't—people are nicer when they get what they want. Nicer to me."

Peter scooted closer, but not too close. Just enough his feet brushed Johnny's. "'People.' You keep saying that." He reached out to take Johnny's knee. "Who?"

"Just... people." Johnny looked away. "It doesn't matter."

Peter got up on his knees in a rush. "Doesn't—" He leaned in close, weight pushing Johnny's knees up against his chest. "Look at me."

Johnny set his jaw.

"Look at me, right now."

Johnny sighed and looked at Peter—his glaring eyes and stubborn face.

"Johnny Storm." Peter reached up to cup his face in one calloused hand. "It _does_ matter." His thumb brushed almost roughly across Johnny's cheek, but his expression softened. "It matters, and—when I was little, you wanna know what my aunt told me?"

For a moment, Johnny chewed at his lip, but then he said, quietly, "...What?"

Peter grinned, a little wild. "She told me to aim for the nuts."

Johnny snorted and shoved Peter's hand away. "Fuck you—" He laughed, though.

Peter jostled him, laughing too. "Shut up, shut up—No," He gave Johnny a firm pat on the knee. "Seriously, though. You don't have to do things just because someone else wants you to." He got his knuckles under Johnny's chin—gave him a little knock, brown eyes gentle. "Okay?"

Johnny took a deep breath, and sighed. Sagged a little bit against the door, and looked down. "Yeah, okay." He hesitated. "I just—Never mind."

Frowning, Peter tilted to try and catch his eye. "What?"

"I just..." Another deep breath. "What if I say no and—whoever, I don't—if I say no and—and—and they just. Do it anyway."

Peter moved around to sit beside Johnny, shoulder-to-shoulder, with a tired, sighing, thoughtful sound. He stretched his legs out and asked, "Are you afraid that'll happen?"

"No, it—I—" Johnny leaned his forehead against his knees. Memories wormed their way into his brain—things he'd rather forget, as he hugged himself. "Yeah."

Peter was silent for a long time.

Eventually, quietly... "Then I'll tell you what my aunt and uncle told me. That it's okay, and that you didn't do anything wrong, and that the person who did that to you was wrong. And that it's not your fault." He put his arm around Johnny, leaning his head close, bumping Johnny's ear just a little. "I promise it wasn't your fault."

Johnny curled a little further in on himself, but he leaned against Peter, who immediately tightened his arm around Johnny with a whispered, "I've got you, sparky..."

Johnny snorted, inelegant and soggy.

But a moment later he said, "Thanks."

Peter squeezed him.


End file.
